


exoticism, etc.

by orphan_account



Category: Death Note
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, Femdom, Kimono, Objectification, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Power Dynamics, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is not a delicate thing. (kimono!porn)</p>
            </blockquote>





	exoticism, etc.

The kimono’s silk slides slow and easy against his skin, the material fluttering cooly to the touch. She pushes it up his thigh and strokes it down again, tracing patterns and mapping worlds, writing her name with the tips of her fingernails. Her pajamas are plain - not dull or unflattering, but nothing to be particularly remarked upon. He is the one dolled-up today, on display so that she doesn’t have to be.

“Am I very beautiful?” he asks, too flat to be teasing, but of course it’s not a straight question.

She smiles, lip quirking prettily, pushing the slit over his thighs open further, drawing back the material until he’s bare - nothing underneath, nothing at all - and, _oh._ It’s cold but her hands are warm. She pulls the belt at his waist, cinching it tighter, and his breath catches thick in the back of his throat, racking through him. His lips are chapped, face warm with a vague, fuzzy heat. She grip his cock lightly, gentle, the way one would be with a delicate thing.

He is not a delicate thing. Her other hand pulls the belt tighter. His eyes hurt and his head rolls and the less he can breathe, the better he feels. “Misa-san,” he sighs, and then she lets go very abruptly and steps back.

“Stand up straight,” she says, “still.” Her voice is soft and it quivers with a gentle wonder, and perhaps he is very beautiful, in fact, but she never hints at anything to that effect. She wouldn’t. That is not what they’re here to do. “Be still and pretty,” she tells him, falling back in a chair. Her quaint little smile is loud in the room, visceral around the words. “That’s all you’re here to do.”

He stands straight, still. He tries to be pretty, although he doesn’t know that he succeeds. He watches her watch him and becomes an object, just another fixture in the room, because that’s all she really wants of him. For someone to perform for her instead of having to put on all the tragedies herself.

“Straighter,” she tells him, so he goes straighter. His cock aches and his muscles clench and he never really feels very beautiful, but she looks at him like he could be.


End file.
